Defining a Little Sweet Heat by Becca Dale

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Hi, K D. Thanks for letting me drop by to visit with you and your readers today. This tour has been both interesting and fun since the stops have almost all been in the UK. It has been an interesting experience indeed.

I thought I’d take a moment to tell readers about feel of my writing. Although The Millionaire and the Girl Next Door is the mildest heat level I have written in a long while, my work runs the gamut from heated to steamy. However, the underlying sweetness never goes away. No matter how Alpha the male or how explicit the sex, passionate tenderness remains beneath it all. In the case of the Millionaire and the Girl Next Door, Jake must face Christa’s family, an emotionally wounded ghost, and the heroine’s own fears. It is those fears that slow him down again and again. He wants but he won’t take until he has her trust.

This heroic attitude drives my heroes and can be a pain in the backside when I want them to get down to it and they give me the lecture in my head about good things coming to those who wait. They don’t care what I want. Their goal, no matter how worked up they might get, is always to satisfy their woman’s needs. I, as the author and supposedly the woman in charge, seem to have no choice in this. Maybe because my own husband offers this type of consistent consideration, my heroes cannot be anything but exactly what my heroines need. Now sometimes, as in the case of Erotic Healing, what the heroine needs is to break down her barriers and get well and thoroughly screwed. Other times, as in my latest release from Decadent Publishing, The Millionaire and the Girl Next Door, the heroine needs time, patience, and a generous dose of understanding before she can let her hair down and say let’s have some fun.

So tenderness and deep emotion run through all my stories. Even in the ones with true Alphas, or the ones with a little kink, the sweetness never goes away. Most of my writing is labeled erotic or sensual romance because I walk the fine line between the two, but no matter how hot the sex, readers consistently label my work as sweet because love and consideration remains at the core of every hero.

Be sure to check at the bottom for a chance to win books from Decadent Publishing. Have fun, and thanks again for letting me hang, K D.

The Millionaire and the Girl Next DoorThe Millionaire and the Girl Next Door Blurb

Tired of chasing his family’s need for money and power, millionaire Jake Wescott heads to Freewill,Wyoming and the beautiful piece of heaven that calls to him.

The girl next door, Christa Dunham puts family first, and she’s determined to protect them from the city boy before he ruins their hunting grounds or steals her heart and then walks away when the lonely nights get too long.

Neither of them expects the attraction that pulls them together nor the lost spirit who wants to drive them apart. Confronting the past leaves them both anxious to find a love beyond a lifetime.

Read an Excerpt: http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=652&osCsid=34ipt9g1f8e41i1lqa1qrdac84

Buy Links : http://www.authorbeccadale.com/#!books/cnec 

About the Author

Becca Dale writes erotic romance with a passionate soul. Her work skirts the very edge of sensual versus erotic romance, which is why fans often use the term sweet-heat, and she tells her editors she is naughty enough. She also strives to make her characters true to life, the type of people readers might know or could meet in the grocery store who just happen to have great sex lives.

Website: http://www.authorbeccadale.com/

Blogger: http://beccadale.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/becca.dale.71

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BeccaDaleAuthor

Contest:

This is stop four on a five day blog tour. Every comment you leave, takes you one step closer to winning anything from my Decadent Publishing backlist and your choice of any Western Escape title. In addition, drop by my website to link to Decadent Publishing’s Give a Reader a Reader. You could win 45 eBooks for you and a loaded Nook eReader for a friend. Join the fun!

Tomorrow’s stop: http://www.snifferwalk.org/

Yesterday’s stop: http://zarastoneley.blogspot.co.uk/

New Release: Threesome Sweetness by JoAnne Kenrick

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Threesome SweetnessTHREESOME SWEETNESS

Book three in the bestselling Irish Kisses series.

Bell’s Irish Pub, where the drinks are cool and the service is HAWT. Tasty treats await you.

www.joannekenrick.com

 

PAIRINGS: m/f/m m f/m

FLAME RATING: four

GENRE: contemporary romance

PUBLISHER: www.decadentpublishing.com

PAGE COUNT: 43

*****

BLURB:

A shot of Threesome Sweetness stirs up emotions….

Elizabeth, a part-time manager of Bell’s Irish Pub and business student, is newly hitched. Her marriage could use a serious shake up, but she finds shopping a more therapeutic use of her time.

If Todd’s wife is happy, he’s happy. But it seems nothing is putting a sweet smile on her face these days, not even her friends at Bell’s. So he contacts 1NightStand and arranges the one thing he knows she doesn’t necessarily want but definitely needs for her thirtieth birthday; a threesome.

Enter cowboy Cade, who’s in London, England hoping to make a restaurant franchise deal. After weeks of doors slamming shut, he uses the 1Night Stand agency in hopes of sprinkling some fun over his overseas business trip and perhaps to learn what he’s missing out on by being relationship shy.

A harmless night of intimacy is planned.

Is a dash of Threesome Sweetness the remedy each is looking for, or will the date leave a bitter aftertaste each will regret for the rest of their lives?

*****

“Ten minutes in here and I’ll need ta strip down ta nothing. Phew.” She wafted

her hand over her face, puffing out her cheeks.

“My dear, that is the plan.” Winking, he slipped out of his robe and bundled it to make a pillow before lounging back.

“We can’t strip in a public sauna.” Peering through the tiny glass window, she prayed nobody was around to see her husband butt naked.

“Here’s the fun part—the sauna is ours for a whole hour. We can do whatever we like in here.”

“Really? What if someone happens ta look in?”

“The main door to this area is locked, so we’re safe.”

“In that case….” She untied the belt around her waist and let the material slide over the curve of her hips to the floor. Pulling in a deep breath, she paraded in front of him. A click. Sounds of the door opening. Her back stiffened, she dared not look behind her.

Oh crap.

“Hmm, your photo does not do you justice, Elizabeth.” Someone slid his hand around her waist then spanked her buttocks.

“How dare ya?” Jerking in response, she spun to face the intruder. He loomed over her, devilishly handsome…and butt naked! Her knees almost gave way at the delicious sight of him before anger bubbled at the crude intrusion.

“Ma’am, I do believe I’m apart of your birthday present…if you accept it, that is.”

“What have ya done, Todd? Did ya go ta a strip club ta arrange a threesome or something? Gross!” She turned to her husband, trying to avert her stare from the new eye candy.

“No, no, ma’am. I’m not a whore. I’m your date for the evening. It’s all very tasteful and safe…through 1Night Stand. I guess this birthday present was somewhat of a surprise for you.”

“Good guess.”

He traced his thumb over the peak of her breasts, causing the sensitive flesh to tingle and send heat rushing down to her tummy. Then, with a whisper-soft touch, he stroked under the curve of her fleshy mounds and groaned. “I do hope to be buried deep inside you soon, if you’re agreeable.”

AMAZON US: http://www.amazon.com/Irish-Kisses/lm/R2WFCBFWNDA9ZI

MORE BUYLINKS: http://www.joannekenrick.com/p/threesome-sweetness.html

*****

ALSO AVAILABLE:

Sweet Irish Kiss, book 1

Shamrocked, book 2

 

Coming November 30th 2012

HOT WINTER KISS, book 4

Hot winter kisses are all this couple needs to stay warm this Christmas, but will the heat stay long after the magical season of mistletoe has finished?

*****

Author bio:

Born n bred Brit, JoAnne Kenrick grew up in a wee sea-side town in North Wales and has enjoyed a variety of vocations such as holistic healer, window dresser, and ghost tour guide. Having lived in Wales, England, and Scotland with her dear family, she finally escaped the dull British summers to reside in sunny Australia. After two years, they moved to the States where she endured three harsh winters in Minnesota. She now lives in North Carolina with her husband, two kids and two puddy cats. When they aren’t demanding her attention, or jumping on her head, she strums away on the keys of her little laptop, creating worlds and adventures she could only ever dream of. Come across the pond and faraway….with JoAnne Kenrick! www.joannekenrick.com

Get exclusive sneak peeks at her new and upcoming releases by signing up to her quarterly newsletter here: http://tinyletter.com/joannekenrick

Sharazade Breaks the Language Barrier with A Skiff of Snow

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I’m chuffed to bits to have my dear friend and fab writer, Sharazade on Hopeful Romantic today. I would love to offer her a proper British welcome, but since I’m not totally British and definitely not proper, I’ll just say what a pleasure it is to have her sharing the story behind her fun and sexy new story, A Skiff of Snow. A story that has a very special meaning to me. Take it away, Sharazade!

Quite some time ago I blogged about the importance of Facebook for writers as a place to make friends (post is here: http://sharazade.com/?cat=31). One of the erotica writer friends I made there was none other than KD Grace, whom I later had the pleasure of actually meeting at a writer’s conference. But even before that, we posted and chatted happily to each other on Facebook about this and that.

One day, she made a remark about expecting “a skiff of snow.” Now, to an American—or at least, to this American—a “skiff” is a sort of boat. I therefore expected that a “skiff of snow” would be a boatload of the white stuff. However, apparently to people living in the area of England that KD now calls home, a “skiff of snow” is a light dusting. So we talked about that, and then about other American/British terms that are different. KD also mentioned getting a delivery from her local milkman—a service that has all but died out in the US, as private dairies are forced out of business by regulations and rising costs. So that too fed into our discussion of cultural differences, and in a rash move, I said that if I were to write an erotica story about cultural differences, I’d put in a hot delivery man in it and call it A Skiff of Snow, and dedicate it to KD Grace.

Well. I think that was two years ago? Something like that. I am not the world’s fastest writer of fiction. But I really did write the story of the American girl Miranda, who travels to England, battles with vocabulary differences, and—of course—meets a hot delivery guy.

I find travel both intimidating and liberating. Even in a country that almost shares a common language with your own, it’s not that hard to make a fool of yourself. And yet, there’s a freedom in your relative anonymity too. No one knows you; you have no history. You’re freer to take chances. And so my Miranda, even while tripping over herself, has the guts to keep trying until she finally gets her man.

In this excerpt, from her attempt to buy a ticket at Waterloo station, you can tell she’s not quite there yet:

* * *
The line wasn’t long, actually, but it moved very slowly. People seemed to spend a long time at the window. Well, that would suit me just fine. If I got the right window. I looked around a bit at the other people in line. How unfair—there were attractive men all around me, actually. As there had been all over London. But how to meet one? I mean, how to really meet one? How did you start? I could strike up conversations about the weather or the time and ask directions, and I’d done all those things, but there never came a point when I could say, “Excuse me, but I’d like to have a fling.” I suppose I could have tried—but I wouldn’t want them to think I was that kind of girl. (Even if I kind of was.)

I turned a corner in the queue-line and could see the male agent again. Maybe about 30 or 35, brown mussed hair, and blue eyes. And … a blue uniform. What is it about men in uniforms? OK, I know selling train tickets isn’t quite the same as being in the RAF, but … it still looked hot. Trust me. I imagined his arms around me as I played with his gold buttons, teasing him a little.

Back up. I’d have to get there first. But at least here I’d have an excuse to make some conversation. I’d ask for my ticket, see, and he’d note the destination, and mention that he was going there anyway, to … to stay with his aunt, or something … and … he’d sort of hint around to make sure I was single, and then we’d arrange to meet up, and …

Another male agent walked behind him. Yes! Two agents! Both of whom had the night off! And would want to show an American around. And we’d wind up back at their apartment – I mean their flat – and one would stand behind me, holding my arms at my side, kissing my neck at just that spot. Then the other one would step up to me, and say

“Cashier number five, please. Cashier number five,” came the announcement for me. I was almost afraid to check—but it was! It was his window!

I was probably more flustered now by the station agent than I would have been by the damn ticket machine. OK, Randie, calm down. You can do this. Talk to the nice man without drooling.

I sort of gawped at him. I couldn’t remember what to ask for. “Um, I need a ticket…”

“Single?”

What the hell? That was pretty forward! I blushed. He’d skipped about six steps of my planned dialogue, but … I could roll with it.
“Yes, I am. Just out of a relationship, actually … ” (Well, so he wouldn’t think I was some sort of loser nobody wanted to date.)

“I mean for the ticket. A single or a return?”

Oh god. Right. The ticket. I didn’t know how to answer the question, though. I had to settle for staring blankly. Return? Did that mean refundable?

“One-way, or round-trip?”

Right – duh. I should have been able to figure that one out, but I’d been too distracted by his uniform. Good thing he also spoke American. But now I was not only not getting a date – probably – I was totally embarrassed.

“Round trip, please.”

“Certainly. Where to?”

What? Oh … was he hoping to meet me after all? “Well … to here, of course.” I sort of half-winked at him and gave him my most enticing smile.
“Yes, but … ” Was that a small sigh? “But what city did you want to go to, so that you could come back here from it?”
Oh god. Oh god. I’m such a dope. I will never, ever buy a ticket from a man in a uniform again.

“Woking.”

A definite sigh this time. “Not walking, love. Where do you want to ride to, on the train?” Like he was talking to a three-year-old.
Oh god oh god oh god. Even the “love” didn’t help. How the hell did you pronounce that name? I tried again.
“Woaking? Wooking?” Why wouldn’t it be wok, like the Chinese dish?

I showed it to him on my little map.

“Oh… Woking,” he said – exactly the same way I’d said it. At least I think. My face was flame red. I considered changing my ticket to a one-way – dammit, a single – so I would never have to face him again, broad-shoulders-in-a-uniform or not. Thank goodness I didn’t have to give him my name in order to get the ticket. (And he didn’t say anything about going there himself, or having the night off. He probably didn’t even have an aunt.)

* * *

When Miranda meets the right man in the right way, though, they find that they share a common language after all. This one’s for you, KD!

Thank you for this, Sharazade! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a story written for me! It’s a fab tale, and what fun it was being a part of the discussion leading to it! KDx

A Skiff of Snow is available at Amazon, Smashwords, and other fine purveyors of cross-culturally informed erotica.

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/A-Skiff-of-Snow-ebook/dp/B00AADCGUE

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/A-Skiff-of-Snow-ebook/dp/B00AADCGUE

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/256904

Sharazade is professional writer, editor, and consultant, with more than 20 books published under another name. She divides her time among Asia, Africa, the Middle East, and the U.S. Not surprisingly, her stories tend to feature some aspect of travel–modes of transportation or exotic locales. She enjoys stories that are realistic enough that they might have happened and fanciful enough that they might not have. She values communication, adventure, exploration, passion, and love. Find her on her blog at http://sharazade.com.

The Telling of Tales: D.L. King and Friends Read to Me

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Ever since Wednesday night’s readings at Sh! with D. L. King and friends, I’ve been thinking about the power of reading stories to each other. I was there to read a bit from one of my own stories, but more importantly I was there to sit back in a roomful of enthralled people and just listen to some of the wonderful authors who have stories in anthologies edited by D. L. King. I couldn’t have asked for more wonderful story-tellers:

Jacqueline Applebee (Where the Girls Are)

Janine Ashbless (Carnal Machines)
Jacqueline Brocker (Under Her Thumb)
Ciara Finn (The Sweetest Kiss)
K. D. Grace (Voyeur Eyes Only)
Remittance Girl (The Sweetest Kiss)
NJ Streitberger (Seductress)

The stories ranged from fem dom to vampire to steam punk. There was even a bit of mythology and voyeurism thrown in for good measure. It was a tremendous pleasure to see D.L. King again, and I felt very honoured to be included to read with some of my heroes in the world of erotica. I was literally transported by each story. The thing is, not only were the stories outrageously sexy and sensual, as you’d expect, but the stories were beautifully woven to pull in the listeners, to allow them to get lost in the tale. I was completely captivated.

Since Wednesday night, I’ve been thinking about how much I love being read to, thinking about why there’s so much more magic in a story read out loud. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting on my mother’s lap while she read to me. I didn’t care what she read. It was the sound of her voice, the way she made the characters come alive, the way the story made me wonder and think and try to picture in my little-girl head a world so much bigger than the Wyoming lumber camp we were living in at the time, a place where the Swiss Family Robinson were surviving and thriving on their lost island, a place where kids, not much older than I, rode gorgeous black horses and solved scary crimes and chased spooky ghosts.

When my mother wasn’t reading to me, my grandfather, who lived with us, was telling stories of his youth, of near-misses with rattle snakes, of catching the biggest catfish ever and of the horse that no one but he could tame. And my dad had his own tales to tell, of practical jokes played on siblings, of dogs that bit, of destructive tornados.

My family knew the magic of story, and they shared that magic with me. The magic of a good story, the magic that compelled our ancestors to sit around a banked fire and listen to the histories of the tribe, listen to the tales of the family, listen to the myths and folk lore collected over generations is a living, breathing magic that still makes my heart race when I think about it.

Unlike our ancestors, we have it all written down now. We have access to a good story anytime. And yet the magic is never more powerful than when the story is read out loud. The power of story spoken goes bone deep and touches parts of us that are much older than our physical selves, parts of us that have roots around campfires sat beneath a sky full of stars.

Wednesday night, we all sat in the bright pink glow of Sh! basement, sipping fizz and listening to sexy tales, tales that offered yet another layer of magic, the magic and the mystery and the celebration of human sexuality told in a thousand creative ways in a thousand intricately woven tales. We listened to stories of what moves us, what makes us squirm, what transports us beyond ourselves while at the same time connects us most deeply to our own flesh.

Perhaps I’m just shamelessly navel-gazing this morning, waiting for my coffee to kick in, but the D.L. King/Sh! version of gathering around the ancestral hearth to listen to stories being shared made me think again about those things that connect us most deeply to our humanity, the sharing of story by word of mouth and the celebration of our sexuality. It seems to me that sex and story go hand in hand, and the community that celebrates both is a community I’m very proud to belong to.

 

Guest Blogger: Zara Stoneley

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Hi KD, Thanks for having me here today.

Sex can be good, uncomplicated fun, or it can be something far different. It can be used to control, to tempt, to punish, to reward. It can make a simple relationship complex, or can be the most straightforward part of a complex relationship.

Riding HighIn ‘Riding High’ Roisin has finally found something she’s never had before – great sex. But it frightens her. She has important, life changing decisions to make and she’s afraid of making them for the wrong reasons, sex and lust, rather than good business and common-sense. She’s grown up seeing the destructive side of sex, watched her womanising father destroy her family life and then discovered her husband has a secret life she knew nothing about. And she doesn’t want history to repeat itself.

Saul, on the other hand doesn’t have a problem with the sex – it’s the nagging desire to hang around and look after her that bothers him. But he’s only doing it to try and make up for his father’s mistakes, right?

Never simple is it? We can’t always separate the lust from the love, and when other things are going on in our lives and emotions are running high, when there are other people involved, suddenly it can be difficult to know what we should be doing and why.

Roisin and Saul both want to be emotionally independent, because they think it’s easier that way. But I wanted to throw them both together, with no easy way out, and a sexual attraction that was impossible to resist, and then watch them work out the ‘why’. Why do they want to avoid involvement? Because until they understand the ‘why’, they’re never going to be able to work out the ‘what’!

 

Excerpt

His warm hands hit her waist, making her feel squishy inside; his warm lips on her neck made her feel something different altogether. She wriggled free and took a step backwards. Distance was what she needed. Distance from temptation

‘You’ll be fine, honest.’ The seductive drawl made a promise he probably couldn’t keep.

‘From where you’re standing, yeah.’

‘The business will be fine, you’ll be fine.’ He was shrugging as though she was a moron, as though it was all straightforward. ‘I’ll sort it.’

‘I don’t want you to sort it.’ She really didn’t. She was sorting this herself, picking her way. Making it work. And if it didn’t work? Well, she’d know exactly who to blame. She put the cup down, misjudged, and it hit the work surface hard, sending a splash of coffee.

‘Well. tough shit, darling, because I’m involved, we’re both involved.’

‘Huh. We’ll see. And I’m only involved if I decide to do it.’ If. That was the problem, though; she didn’t want any “we”. She wanted that one-night stand to have been a one-night stand. And the only way she was going to be able to consign it to honourable history was if she could keep as many miles as possible between them.

‘So you’ve changed your mind? You’re going to give up and go, just like that?’

She looked into the eyes that suddenly seemed darker, more controlling. ‘I didn’t say that. I haven’t made up my mind yet, so I can’t change it, can I?’

‘Fine.’

‘I’m not going to let anyone bully me into this if I feel it’s wrong for me. I’ll find something else.’ Somehow. Shit, what if she couldn’t?

‘Sure.’ He picked up the spoon she’d discarded and jabbed it into the sugar bowl.

‘You don’t take sugar.’ She raised an eyebrow.

‘I suddenly have a craving for something sweet.’

‘I can’t let anyone make up my mind for me, Saul, not even you.’ The spoon clattered into the sink. ‘Shagging me senseless last night doesn’t change anything, this is my decision.’ A muscle was twitching in his jaw; she was making him mad. But she couldn’t stop pushing; he had to know that if she did this it was on her terms. Alone.

‘I’m not out to bully you, Roisin.’ The tight, low voice had a warning tone. ‘I just thought this was a reasonable solution.’

‘What, a solution that suits me or just you?’

‘That suits everyone. This is about business, pure and simple; it isn’t about shagging you senseless. How many times do I have to fricking say that?’

‘Until you stop fricking doing it.’ Why the hell didn’t he get that? The fact that every time they did it, it made the whole thing harder, more complicated. ‘Why’ve you been shagging me at every opportunity, eh? Hunting me down before you came here? Coming back last night to soften me up?’ She pulled further away from him. Maybe she wasn’t being fair. But life wasn’t being bloody fair. She wasn’t sure she wanted to just stop this fling yet, and she didn’t want to walk away from a place she’d fought for unless she had to. This place meant more to her than he could ever imagine, she’d had more battles, more heartache to keep this place than in the rest of her life put together. But was it worth prolonging the agony? It would take more than divine intervention for her to be able to buy it back.

‘I didn’t hunt you down and you know it. That was something that just happened and we both bloody wanted it, so don’t pretend you didn’t. I didn’t need to soften you up, Roisin, I didn’t need to do anything. I just wanted you.’ He sat down and looked. And he looked like he was being honest, or a bloody good actor. ‘Admit it, Roisin, you wanted it too.’

‘OK, I admit it, I wanted it.’ She shrugged. What was not to like when someone attacked you with animal lust?

‘I’m not forcing you into doing this. I just don’t want to take everything away from you if there’s no need.’

‘I need this place.’

‘I know. Don’t worry.’

‘Sorry, but that’s easy for you to say. I do worry.’ He was making it hard to distrust him, making it hard to push him away.

 

Blurb

‘Have wild crazy monkey sex with the first man you bump into.’ Roisin Grant hadn’t intended to follow her best friend’s advice – but, sometimes, what you expect from life and what you get don’t match up. She never expected her husband would have a stash of home-made porn movies, with him in the starring role, or that he would die and leave her bankrupt. And she never expected to be faced with asset-stripper Saul Mathews and a choice. Walk away from her home and equestrian business, or call his bluff and help him deliver riding lessons of an altogether different kind.

An erotic novel with mixed themes including m/f, menage, sex in public and voyeurism.

Available from – Xcite Books,  Amazon (UK),  Amazon (US)

*****

About the author

Zara is a writer and lover of all things romantic, from the sensual to the sexual, who knows that naughty can be nice. She lives in the UK, but whenever she can she heads off in search of some sunshine and inspiration for her stories.

She love sexy high heels…good food….good wine….music…coffee (lots and lots of coffee)… and Italy. All things Italian from the countryside to the culture, the wine to the food…and of course the sexy men.

She’s been a consultant, a teacher, a mother, a wife, a lover… and has always been a writer and she’d love to hear from you.

Where you can find her-

Blog: http://zarastoneley.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter:  @ZaraStoneley

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ZaraStoneley

Email – zarastoneley@gmail.com